Editor : Amethyst00



Leo left the Tower of the Gods and walked through Balharun, deep in thought.

‘It’s clear now—the Hero Record wasn’t split just to establish the Hero Academy.’

Three thousand years ago.

When a fragment of Erebos was resurrected, the existence of the Hero's World became known. After subjugating that fragment, the Hero Record was divided into five parts. With the power of those records, the Hero Academies were founded—each one meant to nurture heroes of a different race.

But Leo found something about that decision strange.

‘Was it really necessary to split the Hero Record into five?’

During that division, many pages were lost. A great number of pages that inherited the power of legendary heroes vanished—and in that process, Kyle became a forgotten hero.

The page Leo found—his own—was so damaged that it was barely recognizable.

It was, simply put, a fatal loss.

When Leo saw it, he immediately sensed that the division of the Hero Record wasn’t merely for the sake of founding the academies.

‘The founders of the academies couldn’t possibly have failed to foresee the damage splitting the Record would cause.’

Even if they hadn’t known everything, they would have anticipated the side effects of dividing such a divine artifact.

Yet they went through with it anyway.

Leo had gone to the Grand Archive to uncover the hidden history behind that decision.

‘A relic made by the gods wouldn’t break from being torn apart. Someone must be deliberately destroying the lost pages. Obvious who—it’s Tartaros.’

His page had likely been targeted specifically because Kyle’s name was recorded there.

To Tartaros, Erebos was their god—and Leo, who had slain that god, was a being of hatred and terror.

‘Just look at Godthrone. The demons are erasing all traces of the battles they fought during the Age of Calamity.’

The surface races now only knew that era through what remained in their written records.

‘But the commanders of Tartaros—they’ve lived since then. They know exactly what happened and where.’

Narrowing his eyes, Leo recalled those commanders one by one.

‘Another question is—how can Tartaros even affect the Hero Record?’

The Hero Record was something made by the gods. No matter how powerful the demon lords were, they shouldn’t be able to tamper with it.

Leo stopped walking.

‘Let’s set the questions aside for now.’

Right now, clearing Luna’s world came first.

He looked down at the Polyum staff in his hand—the magic staff once wielded by his old friend Luna.

Created from divine knowledge, it was the strongest of staffs, difficult to wield even for archmages. It amplified power tremendously and brimmed with its own immense mana.

‘Luna used it like it was nothing, though.’

Remembering her, Leo channeled magic into the staff.

This was the city of the High Elves—and Polyum was a symbol known to all, the mark of the great Elven King.

Even if one wasn’t chosen by it, everyone knew the staff belonged to the king. Carrying it around openly would surely cause trouble.

‘Luna once said it was too heavy to lug around and turned it into a bracelet instead.’

Leo cast a transformation spell on the staff.

Whirrr—

Polyum responded to his mana, changing into a bracelet form.

He fastened it around his wrist.

‘Never thought I’d actually end up using Polyum myself.’

Letting out a faint laugh, he headed toward Akint’s laboratory.

‘I need to get Hardin out of the underground prison, and find Lunia and Elena too.’

Then another thought came to mind about clearing Luna’s world.

To Leo’s knowledge, the “Star Sorcery” had been completed right here, in Balharun.

Before the Age of Calamity, elves weren’t yet known as the race of magic. But because they were born attuned to mana, many powerful magicians had existed since the Age of the Gods—and Balharun was where that long magical history was concentrated.

Though many High Elves had fallen into decadence, the legacy of their noble ancestors remained untarnished.

Leo looked up at the towering tree at the city’s center—a tree that no longer existed in the present world.

The World Tree, cherished and nurtured by the elves.

From the legacy left by countless ancient elves, Luna had eventually perfected the “Star Sorcery.”

‘So it really has been connected all the way from the distant past.’

The elves’ ancient legacy flowed into Luna—and her development of the Stars Sorcery was passed down to modern elves.

Generation after generation, their will never ceased to be inherited.

‘If the goal of this world is for Luna to complete her Stars Sorcery, then all we need to do as raiders is help her along.’

It was a simple objective—typical of a “prologue” stage in any hero’s world.

When Leo arrived at Akint’s lab, he noticed a girl hesitating in front of the door.

He called out her name.

“Luna.”

“Ah…!”

Startled, Luna turned toward him.

“Professor Akint.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Today is Prince Ergen’s birthday.”

Leo froze for a moment.

The birthday of the Elven King Ergen—a celebration for all elves.

“There’s a party at the World Tree plaza but… I wasn’t invited.”

Luna fidgeted with her hands, her eyes shifting awkwardly, her face shadowed with disappointment.

“Can I… come with you? I really want to see His Highness.”

Something felt off to Leo.

‘What is this?’

Luna was an anomaly in Balharun—a genius who had entered the city not through lineage, but through her overwhelming talent and skill. That had earned her many enemies.

But there were also plenty who respected and supported her—one of the foremost being Akint, whose body Leo now inhabited.

‘She used to brag that the Elven King himself had sponsored her when she enrolled here.’

Though officially still a student, Luna was treated on par with the teachers. She didn’t attend classes, focusing entirely on her magical research—and through that, she had laid the foundation for the Stars Sorcery.

Yet now she claimed she hadn’t been invited to the king’s celebration.

‘What’s going on? Is she lying?’

No—Leo knew Luna too well. She wasn’t the type to lie out of pride.

‘Then… could it be that she hasn’t received the king’s patronage yet?’s

But that didn’t add up either.

‘No, she entered Balharun when she was thirteen. Right now, she looks like she’s in her mid-teens.’

‘Then what is this?’

A sense of wrongness settled in Leo’s gut.

“Luna.”

“Yes?”

“You’re sponsored by Prince Ergen—so why didn’t you get an invitation?”

“My sponsorship from His Highness ended a month ago,” Luna said softly, her voice faltering.

Her shoulders slumped, her whole posture deflated.

Leo’s face hardened.

‘History has changed.’

In a hero’s world, history could indeed be altered.

If a raider influenced the course of events for the better, achieving greater feats than the original, that counted as “overachieve.”

But if they steered it the wrong way and caused harm, the raid failed.

So yes, history changing wasn’t impossible—but something about this was wrong.

‘We only entered Luna’s world a few hours ago.’

The only major event since then was Hardin possessing Zera’s body and thrashing Hilkian—but that couldn’t have altered history from a month ago.

‘Could the world itself have gone berserk, like a corrupted Hero Dungeon? But I’ve never heard of that happening… then what is this?’

As he pondered, a voice echoed in his mind.

‘Leo. This world—no, the Hero Record—may have been shrouded in darkness.’

The words of the god he had met earlier.

Even if it was a false god, the power had been genuine.

‘Darkness… could it be?’

A chill crept down his spine as realization struck.

8‘Is it possible that Tartaros has infiltrated this Hero Dungeon?’*

bl

In the underground prison, Hardin sat in remorse.

‘Foolish. I let my emotions get the better of me when they insulted the great Luna—an icon of elven history itself.’

In a Hero Dungeon, every action mattered. But he had acted impulsively—and this was the result.

‘Haa… how shameful. To disgrace myself before a first-year, even if from another academy.’

He sighed and looked around.

‘Even for a prison, this is filthy.’

It was a place meant to hold their own kind, yet it was inhumane.

‘So the ancient days were this different?’

The state of it was a cultural shock.

‘When I return to Seiren, I’ll have plenty to report.’

He was thinking about what to say after the raid when—

Creak—! Bang!

The cell door opened, and someone entered.

Step, step—

Two girls appeared, their steps faint and weary.

Hardin frowned.

They were clearly half-elves—but their clothes were tattered and dirty.

“You are… who?”

“Wh-what do you mean, sir? We are slaves.”

“Slaves? Why?”

Hardin’s eyes widened.

“That’s a strange question. Aren’t all half-elves slaves?”

The girl’s lifeless tone made his blood run cold.

‘Slaves? Such a vile system existed?’

Even in his own era, there was prejudice—but never to the point of enslaving those who shared elven blood.

Yet here, mixed-blood elves were treated as less than people.

The thought made his body tremble with revulsion.

‘This… this was real history? Our people enslaved their own kind?’

One of the slave girls tilted her head, puzzled by his reaction.

Then—footsteps echoed again.

Step, step—

Someone new was approaching the cell.

The girl delivering his meal quickly moved aside, but the other froze, too slow to react.

Step—

The man stopped.

A noble-looking High Elf with white hair and blue eyes glanced down at the girl blocking his way.

Then—

Thud!

“Ah—!”

He kicked her without hesitation. The girl slammed into the bars, gasping for breath.

The other girl’s face went pale.

“E-En!”

Panicking, she rushed to her friend’s side.

“The slaves here haven’t been properly trained.”

Thud!

“Kh…!”

The white-haired elf exhaled indifferently and kicked again.

Hardin’s eyes burned with fury.

“What are you doing!”

The elf—Sarman—smirked at his outburst.

“They’re just slaves, aren’t they?”

Thump—!

“Ugh…”

He pressed his foot on the fallen girl’s head and sneered.

“Or are you angry because your precious ancestors once did such vile things?”

“What?”

Hardin’s expression hardened.

“However you came here, I don’t care… Seiren’s dog.”

Vwooom—!

Dark mana surged from Sarman’s hand.

Crack—!

His arm twisted, turning into a monstrous claw.

“You’ll die here.”

“Tartaros?”

Hardin’s eyes widened in shock as he raised his aura—

But the restraints on his arms suppressed it.

He could break them, but it would take a second too long—time he might not have.

‘I need to block his attack first, then escape—’

Crack—!

“Gah—?”

Blood sprayed. Pain shot through his body.

“Hardin. So it really was you.”

The “slave girl” who had been kicked rose to her feet with a smile, pink light glowing around her.

Hardin stared in disbelief.

“Elena?”

“What’s with that pathetic look?”